


Play

by FhimeChan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Post TWOTL, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: A possible future for Will and Hannibal. It's dark.





	Play

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't make it into the zine, but at least I tried!  
> Thank you Yvaine, @brokenfannibal and @my-soul-and-perfume for helping me ♥

_ Classical music played in the background.  _

_ Enough to rouse Hannibal from his drugged slumber, and for the first shreds of panic to settle in. He fought to open his eyes, while footsteps approached, and lost. _

_ Pain. _

_ Blunt, inescapable pain stealing his breath away, pulling him forcefully into the present. _

_ Too much light in the room. Will’s swollen eyes just visible over his bandaged cheek, piercing into him. Indifferent.  _

_ Hannibal tried to plead, but Will deliberately elbowed the wound left by the bullet, and Hannibal cried out. _

_ Push, pain, cry. Will’s eyes, shining. Pain, push, pain. _

_ Classical music played in the background.  _

* * *

"Play."

Dark eyes stare at him, cataloguing every shudder. 

Hannibal straightens.

"Will, I-"

Pain is the only intimacy Will allows between them. It's simultaneously self-punishment and righteous revenge. 

"Play."

He should refuse, but Will would ignore him for another endless, grey streak of days.

Hannibal sits in front of their piano, and the first note is a stab into his healing wound. While the pain is only in his head, the contraction of his lungs is real. 

Will is staring at him; Hannibal is his design. 

Another note from the piano and Hannibal’s breath comes in painful rasps. He must close his eyes to hold the tears back. 

“Don’t stop. Play.”   
And he does until he collapses. 

Will walks away without looking back.

* * *

"Play." 

"No." 

Will heads to the door. Suddenly, Hannibal knows what to say. 

"Hurt me."

Will stops.

“You must do it now before I heal.”

Will turns. His face shows no emotion. There must be a way through. 

“I won't be able to hear classical music ever again.”

Will grimaces. He enjoys what he has done to Hannibal, but he hates enjoying it. 

Hannibal loves him. 

“Don’t you want to destroy another one of my safe harbors?”

Will takes his eyes off Hannibal. Hesitates. Because if he admits that he cherishes harming Hannibal, his careful avoidance will crumble. 

“I may get bored otherwise.”

No, Hannibal never will. But Will’s eyes harden and he steps towards Hannibal, crowding him against the wall. 

Will tears fabric and gauze until his fingers touch flesh and blood, nails digging inside the wound on Hannibal’s side. Even if the infection is gone, the pain is blinding. 

No room to breathe. Will is so close. He curls his fingers with a cruel sort of indifference, while Hannibal struggles to stay upright. 

Now. Now he can ask.

“Do you… want... me dead?”

The answer is a pinch. Hannibal’s legs give way, he falls against Will. 

Between a veil of tears, Hannibal remembers. 

* * *

_ Will pressed down on Hannibal’s open wound, his face a mask of blood, tears, and salt water. His eyes out of focus, his words distorted. _

_ Hannibal let go, floating towards nothingness. _

_ Pain. _

_ Sharp, on his side. It cut, clear and crystalline, through the numbness.  _

_ Hannibal’s eyes snapped open. _

_ “Don’t you dare.”  _

_ Will punched him, once, twice, gritting his teeth in spite of his slashed open cheek. _

_ Hannibal stood there with him, holding onto the scraps of pain.  _

* * *

Hannibal grins. Will hurt him to selfishly bring him back. 

Will snarls and pushes Hannibal against the wall, putting some space between them. Retracting his hand. 

Hannibal catches him by his wrist and presses Will’s bloodied fingers inside his wound. He keeps pulling until Will is braced against him.

He whispers into his ear.

“You laid down… the terms.” 

Will shudders, his forearm crushing Hannibal’s torso. 

“You want to…take away all which would be... good for me.” 

Hannibal rests his head against the wall, sees the flash of guilt in Will’s eyes. He can work with guilt. Guilt will fade. Pain will delete it. 

“Now, play.”

Hannibal kisses him, letting himself be bitten and invaded, hissing in pain as Will’s fingers twist his flesh with careful precision. 

A new safe harbour, conquered and destroyed. 

**Author's Note:**

> After a discussion with a friend, I have a clear idea of where I messed up... be kind with me!  
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
